Books and Colds
by Chihori Anigma
Summary: Sirius has a bad cold and an even worse temper because of said cold and so throws a book which misses it's mark.


**AN: Regulus is seven, Sirius nine and Andromeda fourteen. I don't think his family started actually abusing Sirius until he was Sorted into Gryffindor, but they were still cold towards him and often ignored him except to lecture him and set him school work.**

Sirius blew his nose disgruntledly into a handkerchief that was enchanted to clean itself each time it was folded in half. He had woken up the morning before with a bad cold and a fever and while the fever had gone the cold had stayed.

Unfortunately, his mother did not think that a bad cold was enough to stop him from learning and he had to meet with his tutor as usual. His tutor, however, had taken ill, too and Sirius' mother, at the loss of what else to do, had commanded him to read a thick book about wizard families since the 15th century.

Sirius blew his nose again making a great honking nose. Regulus, who had caught the fever from Sirius and was sitting at the other side of the room trying to read a story book, glared at Sirius.

"I'm trying to read," he said, in what Sirius thought was too prim a fashion for a seven year old, "So can you please not make such loud noises while clearing your sinuses?"

Sirius glared back. He was sick, his head hurt and he couldn't breathe. He hurled his book at Regulus.

"Ow!" came a voice from the doorway. Andromeda, Sirius and Regulus' older cousin, stood there, angrily clutching the book Sirius had thrown.

"Who threw this? It was you, wasn't it?" she demanded, turning to Sirius. He shook his head violently which just made him cough and need to blow his nose again.

Andromeda clearly didn't believe him and started to lecture. "You shouldn't throw books; you could hurt them. Just look how old this one is-imagine if you broke the spine." Sirius could imagine the punishment he could get if that happened quite clearly. He almost rubbed his rear-end in sympathy with his imaginings.

Andromeda was still lecturing. "-precious things. You can learn so much for them and, believe me, you are going to need them when you go to Hogwarts. If you want to go there you need to learn how to respect books-"

Sirius cut her off. He knew she wouldn't go and tell his mother that he had thrown the book-she was, after all, his second-favorite-relative after Uncle Alphard for a reason. "I won't throw books anymore. Besides I didn't mean to hit you-I meant to hit Regulus."

"It doesn't matter-" Andromeda stopped when she saw Sirius' face. "Fine, I guess you got the point and this book doesn't look too interesting, anyway. Would you like me to read you something much more interesting?"

"I'm too old for that," Sirius started to say when he started coughing. He grabbed blindly for his self-cleaning handkerchief, trying to stop coughing. Andromeda pounded him on the back which didn't help in any way.

At the sound of his heavy coughing, his mother, who must have been passing in the hallway entered the room. She waved her wand over Sirius, muttering a spell while she did so and the coughing stopped.

Andromeda seized her chance. "Aunt Walburga, can I read Sirius a book?" she asked.

The person being asked pursed her lips. "Sirius is supposed to be reading the book I set him now."

"But he looks really sick. And his eyes care streaming from all that coughing-he can't possibly read like that."

Sirius tried not to smile. He knew his mother couldn't deny those facts nor could she keep her guest from doing what she asked.

"As long as it is educational," she said and left.

So dinnertime found both Sirius and Regulus curled up near their older cousin, occasionally blowing their noses, while she held "Hartfield Meath, the Duke's Messenger" in her hands, reading aloud from it in the weirdest voices she could possibly make, holding both boys entranced.

 **Challenges: The 2016 Monthly Prompt List Challenge**

 **Prompts: [** **Scenario] I meant to hit my friend when I threw that book but I accidentally hit you instead, but you're more mad that I threw a book than you are about me hitting you**


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